"Yes, Mona," he said, with a fearful calmness, "we have thought of my crime as against Ewan, as against you, myself, the world, and its law. But it is a crime against God also, and surely it is the unpardonable sin." "Don't say that, Dan. There is one great anchor of hope." "What is that, Mona?" "Ewan is with God. At this moment, while we stand here together, Ewan sees God." "Ah!" Dan dropped to his knees with awe at that thought, and drew off the cap which he had worn until then, and bent his head. "Yes, he died in anger and in strife," said Mona; "but God is merciful. He knows the feebleness of His creatures, and has pity. Yes, our dear Ewan is with God; now he knows what you suffer, my poor Dan; and he is taking blame to himself and pleading for you." "No, no; I did it all, Mona. He would not have fought. He would have made peace at the last, but I drove him on. 'I can not fight, Dan,' he said. I can see him saying it, and the sun was setting. No, it was not fight, it was murder. And God will punish me, my poor girl. Death is my just punishment--everlasting death." "Wait. I know what is to be done." "What, Mona?" "You must make atonement." "How?" "You must give yourself up to justice and take the punishment of the law. And so you will be redeemed, and God will forgive you." He listened, and then said: "And such is to be the end of our love, Mona, born in the hour of its death. You, even you, give me up to justice." "Don't say that. You will be redeemed by atonement. When Ewan was killed it was woe enough, but that you are under God's wrath is worse than if we were all, all slain." "Then we must bid farewell. The penalty of my crime is death." "No, no; not that." "I must die, Mona. This, then, is to be our last parting." "And even if so, it is best. You must make your peace with God." "And you, my last refuge, even you send me to my death. Well, it is right, it is just, it is well. Farewell, my poor girl; this is a sad parting." "Farewell." "You will remember me, Mona?" "Remember you? When the tears I shed for Ewan are dry, I shall still weep for you." There was a faint cry at that moment. "Hush!" said Mona, and she lifted one hand. "It is the child," she added. "Come, look at it." She turned, and walked toward the bedroom. Dan followed her with drooping head. The little one had again been restless in her sleep, but now, with a long breath, she settled herself in sweet repose. At sight of the child the great trembling shook Dan's frame again. "Mona, Mona, why did you bring me here?" he said. The sense of his crime came with a yet keener agony when he looked down at the child's unconscious face. The thought flashed upon him that he had made this innocent babe fatherless, and that all the unprotected years were before her wherein she must realize her loss. He fell to his knees beside the cot, and his tears rained down upon it.